Even Fire Lords Still Have Things To Learn
by Wisecrack Idiots
Summary: Four months after the end of the War, the young Fire Lord finds himself in an awkward situation that all people face: relationships. After some hilarious advice over a cup of tea, Zuko tackles his problem head-on.


_ ¡Hola! ¿Qué pasa?_

Yo, chicos! We're taking a break from _Brawl_ and revisiting the "Avatar Era" of our lives._ Due to the fact that there is no "Season 4" of Avatar: The Last Airbender, we're improvising_. This takes places a few months after the end of the War and revolves around Zuko... and everything about him that makes him sexy!

_Please be forewarned that on the matter of "shipping wars" we are both neutral_. This pairing is only being written about because it's technically what you would call "cannon."_ We aren't Kataangs, Zutarians, or Maikos._

Enjoy this hilarious debut of Zuko's complicated life!_  
_

..._and please don't shoot us_.

— A/S

* * *

******PREVIOUSLY, ON AVATAR**...

_No, wait, sorry; Avatar Roku, who actually does the voiceover for this, was kicked out. So instead we're going to skip the flashbacks and proceed strait to the "episode." Enjoy_.

* * *

Sixty-four years old, and Iroh—the renowned Dragon of the West—thought he had seen it all. From his days as a Fire Nation General, to his involvement in the end of the War, he was certain that nothing could ever take him by surprise ever again.

How wrong he was today.

Said day was, at first, no different than any other. Bright and early at dawn's first light, Iroh had eagerly begun brewing tea, delighted by the prospect of another soothing, tranquil day at the Jasmine Dragon. Like always, Earth Kingdom customers had flooded into the shop, never looking for anything more than a cup of tea and perhaps a little advice; the latter Iroh was always humbled to supply.

Around mid afternoon, he was discussing Firebending techniques to a gaggle of young Earthbender youths who had shyly inquired. Deciding to take a quick break from preparing and serving his famous tea, he slowly lowered his arthritic joints on a cushion before a low-rise table. Around him the group of five settled eagerly, their bright eyes beady and curious. While he poured the simmering tea into a white and blue cup, Iroh patiently replied, "Back in my younger days—"

One of the boys, a sandy-haired kid, snickered under his breath.

Eyes brows quirked, Iroh himself stifled a snort of amusement. "Believe it or not, I was young at one point in my life. As I was saying..." Before he answered, he sipped from the steaming beverage, and continued: "I often taught numerous soldiers and students of mine how to hone their Firebending skills. Though I must admit, some days the work was indeed arduous: for them, and for myself. For instance," he grinned, "you wouldn't believe how hot-headed some of my pupils were. My own nephew, for instance, was quite a challenge."

"You mean," a black-haired boy piped up with his mouth agape, "_Fire Lord Zuko_?"

Nostalgia flickered across the old man's face, and he nodded in confirmation. "Could you ever believe that one of the greatest Firebenders in the world is not much older than any of yourselves?" Pausing to gathering his thoughts, Iroh pursued: "Believe me, trying to teach my nephew made taming a Badgermole look easy!"

Unable to help themselves, the boys cupped their mouths and giggled.

As he lowered his tea cup to the table, Iroh tried to conceal a wily smile. He remarked with an ever-widening grin, "One time, for example, I was trying to teach him a technique called the 'Fire Whip.' We were visiting a small Earth Kingdom town, where we found an ideal location to train close to the market."

Nods ensued around the table.

"Now that I think about it, maybe it _wasn't_ so ideal," Iroh tacked on, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Three minutes into the exercise, and my nephew accidentally set several fruit stands on fire!" While a chorus of laughter echoed around the table, he waved a hand to garner their attention again: "It gets better. Out of common courtesy, I promised the merchants that I would pay for the damages done. Meanwhile," he chortled, "Zuko had trailed off down the street. He was still within yelling distance, of course, so I didn't think I had to worry. But my nephew wasn't the one I heard yelling."

A pause followed, and the old man could sense the kids' curiosity growing.

Teeth bared in a grin, Iroh snorted, "I ran down the street and rounded the corner, for fear that something terrible had occurred. And I was right: Some poor gentleman was rolling across the dirt, trying to extinguish his pants which were on fire."

Over the kids' roar of laughter, Iroh guffawed, "Zuko thought the man had been attempting to withdraw a dagger, when in fact, he was just reaching for his wallet!"

Out of shock, several of the customers jumped as the group began to kneel over, clutching their sides as they laughed. Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, Iroh insisted, "You haven't heard the worst of it yet!" When the kids' mirth subsided to hiccups, he plowed on: "During our 'extended vacation,' we made several trips to the Southern Water Tribe's territory. Zuko was so frustrated after one practice, that when he walked on five-foot-thick ice, it melted directly beneath him! We had to fish him out!"

Several of Iroh's staff—who had been hovering in the background—had to stifle their amusement by stuffing their fists into their mouths. Sheepishly they backed away, returning to serving customers. One of the older boys in the group had actually toppled onto his side, and was shaking violently with the force of his laughter.

In a grand gesture Iroh swept back his arms, commanding the kids' attention once more: "This story," he proclaimed "is the icing on the cake! This is proof that no matter how advanced you _think_ you are at bending, there is still much to learn."

Eagerly the five boys edged closer, scooting their cushions as close to the table as possible. Not that it was necessary, of course; Iroh was practically screaming. Even the customers toward the back of the shop were staring.

"About several months ago," he began, crossing his arms, "shortly before my nephew's initiation, he approached me and asked about learning a new technique. I was glad to oblige, and offered to show him jet propulsion."

Excited and hushed murmurs came from the young ragtag audience.

After a second of thought, the memory came rushing back, and Iroh began to wheeze with amusement. He explained in a sagely tone, "Jet propulsion involves Firebending out of the soles of your feet in order to propel yourself in any direction. Though I've often wondered how our shoes are never destroyed by this, I never question it." Shrugging to himself, Iroh eagerly launched into the second half of his story. Aloud he stated, "In the dojo where we regularly practice, I exemplified how to do the move. When my nephew prepared, he accidentally did the wrong stance and squatted."

Already the kids were snorting under their breaths.

"Suddenly," Iroh burst out, "_he farted_, and Firebended right out of his royal tush! He did jet propulsion, alright; from the wrong end! Zuko launched himself over the dojo wall, and was going...going..._gone!_"

While most of the adult customers looked mortified by this information, off to the sidelines, a select few customers were snorting into their teacups. Simultaneously, the kids had collapsed onto the floor, howling with laughter.

Even Iroh was having a hard time not succumbing to the floor, likewise sharing their amusement. While attempting to keep a straight face, he roared out, "I told the cook that we shouldn't have had beans for lunch!"

Almost a heartbeat after his proclamation, the five boys sobered up rather abruptly. For the first time they quivered with nervousness, their faces shadowed as if they stood before death row.

While booming with laughter, Iroh nodded toward the young Earthbenders, insisting, "It's okay, you're allowed to laugh. I'm not going to punish you for laughing at the Fire Lord!"

Behind the old man, a quiet and polite voice inquired, "Are you sure that's how the story goes, Uncle? If I recall, it was _you_ who propelled himself out of the dojo and into the koi pond."

"I am certain that's how it went—" As the realization of whom the speaker was settled in, Iroh hastily glanced over his shoulder. Towering over him was Zuko, one eyebrow quirked in skepticism. Both arms were folded over his chest, and he offered a small smile.

With an exclamation of delight, Iroh scrambled to his feet and grinned broadly at his nephew. "Zuko!" he boomed, and without warning embraced Zuko in a bone-crushing hug.

Warmly Zuko returned the gesture, managing to somewhat hug his uncle in return; it was a tad difficult, considering that Iroh was nearly cracking his spine. "It's good to see you, too," he mumbled. "But could you let me go, please?"

Just as Iroh released him from his iron grip, the five children swiftly rose to their feet and bowed. Their leader, the sandy-haired youth, apologized out of the corner of his mouth, "We're sorry, Fire Lord Zuko, for laughing an' all..."

Rather than show a flare of his old temper, Zuko politely returned the gesture, dipping his head in a bow. Head raised, he offered them a calm smile. "There's nothing to apologize for. It's a good story to learn from."

Perhaps the group had assumed they would have gotten off much worse, because they hastily nodded, mute with fear, and "excused themselves" from the tea shop. All of this took place in about four seconds.

Shaking his head, Zuko glanced at Iroh, uncertain. "Why do they always run? I swear, they must think that I'm going to skin them alive."

In return the old man chortled, his jaws thrown open in a belch of laughter. Shrugging, Iroh gently placed a hand on his shoulder and sighed in contentment. "They have too much respect for you, Zuko," he explained. "Do not be offended, or take it personally."

"I don't," Zuko assured him sincerely.

Upon removing his palm from Zuko's shoulder, Iroh turned to face him, his expression surprised. "It's good to see you again. What brings you to Ba Sing Se?"

That was when Iroh realized that something was wrong. Uncharacteristic of his nephew, Zuko shifted his stance from foot to foot, as if fidgeting. A bead of sweat clung to his bangs near the rim of his forehead; when he opened his mouth to answer, his voice was grave: "Uncle, may I have a word with you? In private?"

"Of course," Iroh promptly answered. With his right hand raised, he beckoned to two of his servers: a woman and a man, adorned in the traditional Earth Kingdom-green attire. As they approached, Iroh lowered his voice to a whisper. In an undertone, he explained, "Manage the shop for me"—he gave a sideways glance at Zuko's intense expression—"for a while. I'm taking a leave."

Together they bowed and adjourned, once again serving tea.

To his nephew, Iroh ordered softly, "Follow me to the upstairs living quarters," and he quickly tread toward a staircase at the back of the shop. During their ascent up the steps, neither spoke a word.

Outside of a wooden door on the second level of the shop, Iroh paused before withdrawing a key from his robes. A metallic _click_ resounded from the lock. Grabbing the handle, he pushed open the door and lightly padded inside, Zuko pacing closely behind.

Being a modest man, Iroh had arranged the room with only a few Fire Nation antiques perched atop small tables. Hanging from the farthest wall was a flag depicting the four nations' insignias. Tidy to the point where one could have eaten off of the floor, the room's most notable furniture were a bookshelf along the starboard wall, and a low-lying table flanked by two cushiony sofas. Leading from the room were two passageways; presumably, one had to be a bedroom. The other, judging by the scents wafting from the abbreviated hall, was most likely a small kitchen.

With an extended hand he motioned toward one of the sofas. While Iroh settled across from his nephew, Zuko erectly sat on the edge of the sofa, as if poised to run at any given moment.

Calmly the old man questioned, "What is wrong? You don't look well."

"I'm not sick!" Zuko insisted hastily. Swallowing the bulge in his throat, he glanced downward and mumbled, "Actually, I need your advice."

Iroh adorned a concerned frown on his face, which revealed a century's worth of wrinkles from having repeated the selfsame gesture. He implored, "What do you need help with?"

"Well..." Surprisingly for one syllable, it could be dragged out to emphasize any point. Too uneasy to thoroughly explain himself, he gesticulated helplessly with a shrug.

A long sigh left Iroh's lips. "Give me a moment to fetch some tea. Fortunately, I had begun to brew a pot..." His voice trailed off as he rose stiffly, stretched, and hastened toward the kitchen. Zuko's relief at being left alone was short-lived, as Iroh returned less than ten seconds later, balancing a tray with a pot and two ornate cups. While carefully lowering the antique set onto the table, he plunked back onto the adjacent sofa and smiled benignly. "Now, what's on your mind?"

Out of a nervous response, Zuko brought a hand to the back of his neck and massaged his skin—an idiosyncrasy only recently developed. "I need your advice."

Surprise coursed through Iroh like a torrent. It wasn't like his nephew to repeat himself. Normally, Zuko was straightforward and to the point. "We've already established that you need a second opinion. But on what matter?"

"Not so much a second opinion, as more of a...well, instructions on how to"—he avoided eye contact—"'do something.'"

Now engaged and truly perplexed, Iroh sat a little straighter. "I wish I could give you advice on running a country," he remarked regretfully, "but I'm afraid that I can't offer any advice from past experience."

"I'm not talking about ruling the Fire Nation!" Zuko snapped. For a second he paused, inhaling, as if trying to settle his temper—or whatever was giving him so much stress. "It's a little more personal than that."

"Does this have to do with yelling at one of your advisors last week?" Iroh suggested.

"How did you know that I—? That's not important, nor is that why I'm here, Uncle," Zuko muttered. Again he shifted his gaze and fixated it on a point beyond Iroh's shoulders, as if trying desperately to not meet his gaze. His left hand, which was gripping his right arm, tightened until the fingers were pale. "It's more...private."

Narrowing his eyes, Iroh nodded, as if confirming his own suspicions. "Does this have something to do with your relationship in regards to the Avatar?"

"This has nothing to do with Aang!" retorted Zuko. Teeth clenched, he muttered, "Aang is currently at the Southern Water Tribe. I haven't seen him in over a month."

Between sips of his herbal tea, Iroh offered, "Is this conversation about your father?"

"No!" Zuko growled. His grip tightened on his sleeve.

"Your sister Azula?"

"Of course not!"

"Your friends?"

"You're nowhere near close," Zuko sighed, exhaling in frustration. Closing his eyes, he craned his neck toward the ground, before gradually regaining enough dignity to meet his uncle face-to-face. "This is about Mai."

The look on Iroh's face transformed from puzzled to bewildered. Upon resting his cup on the mahogany tabletop, he leaned back and nodded encouragingly. "I thought that your relationship with her was doing well?"

"It is!" Zuko blurted out. "No, our relationship couldn't be better, actually. It's...fantastic." Despite the use of the adjective, the nervousness in Zuko's expression contradicted him entirely.

"If you're both happy together," reasoned Iroh, preparing to take another sip of tea, "then what could you possibly need advice on?"

Somewhere in the back of Zuko's mind, the stress meter imploded. Almost painstakingly he gawked, under the presumption that his uncle was probably toying with him. Either that, or Iroh was as thick as a brick. Bringing his left hand to his face, he massaged his temple, uttering a strained groan. "Fine, fine! It's..."

Iroh cracked open an eye, gazing back almost imperiously. Swallowing, he reasoned, also betraying some slight impatience, "I would like to remind you that I am not a mind-reader."

"Yes...y-you're right, Uncle," Zuko reasoned, half to himself. "I came all this way to ask you about..." Unintentionally his palm slid down toward his face, and he breathed out into his hand.

"Would you prefer to write it down on parchment?" Iroh offered, more calmly than before.

"No!" Zuko snapped forcefully. "_No_. I am the Fire Lord. I should be able to say something like this."

With an inviting jerk of his chin, Iroh remarked, "Then speak away."

Something akin to panic flared in Zuko's amber irises. Shifting backward against the sofa, he protested, "I—I can't. You don't understand..."

As unusual this behavior was for his nephew, Iroh mentally decided that this was a matter Zuko had to confront. He couldn't be the one to prompt an answer out of him. Raising the cup to his lips, the old man agreed, "You're quite right; I don't understand, not unless you tell me. Otherwise, I can't help you. I am sorry, Zuko."

Just as Iroh began to tip the cup's contents into his mouth, Zuko's complexion turned almost bright crimson. Only for a heartbeat did Zuko pause, lingering in his conscience, before blurting out angrily, "I need to ask you about sex!"

Iroh's eyes widened and he recoiled, reflexively spitting out his mouthful of tea onto the floor. From his hands the cup slipped and clattered to the ground unbroken, while its contents spilled out across the tiling. Iroh coughed, trying to get his breath back, and turned his stupefied gaze onto his nephew. "_What _did you ask?"

If possible, Zuko's cheeks looked redder than they had before he had selected those choice words. Through gritted teeth he muttered, "I _knew_ this was a bad idea."

With due haste Zuko began to rise; before he could begin to make his exit, Iroh had already edged around the table and blockaded his nephew's path. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he gently urged Zuko back into a sitting posture, all the while saying, "Wait! You obviously came here for a reason."

Unresisting his uncle's attempts, he reluctantly sat back down and glared at the teapot, for lack of something to vent his frustrations at. Likewise, Iroh reclaimed his seat. Rather than try to imitate him and glare the teapot into submission, he leaned to the right and tried to meet Zuko's downcast gaze.

To break the awkward silence, Iroh reinstated the conversation. It was better than the silence, that was certain.

"What specifically do you need to know about sex?"

With a subdued moan of vexation, Zuko unhinged his neck and glanced unwillingly at him. "It's not so much as knowing about it... May I start from the beginning?"

A simple nod was Iroh's response.

"Well, I've been with Mai for about five months now, since the War ended," Zuko cautiously answered. "You see, I _really_ care about her. I want to..." He paused to wipe an unwelcome bead of sweat from his brow. "...I want to take our relationship to the next level."

Never taking his gaze from his nephew's face, Iroh indulged him with an accepting nod. "But...?"

Once more Zuko fidgeted, and he ran a stray hand through his mop of charcoal black hair. "But I don't know how to...'approach' Mai on the matter. There's more than just one person in this relationship, and I don't want to pressure her into it." Closing his unscarred eye, he breathed out, "My dad never exactly gave me the 'pep talk,' so I didn't know who else to turn to."

"I understan—_wait!_" The old man stared with unmasked astonishment. "You're telling me that you were never briefed on the 'birds and bees' matter? Not even the _basics_, Zuko?"

Embarrassment saturated the air encasing the two. Whether Zuko was regretting his decision or tearfully humiliated, he nonetheless continued: "My mom never had the chance to."

"I see." In meditation Iroh rubbed his chin, pondering the matter for a moment. "Before we go any further," he huffed, "I need you to tell me what you have already established."

"_What?_" This time the remark came out as a strident yelp of protest. Crossing his arms impatiently, Zuko growled, "Is that really necessary, Uncle?"

"In my opinion, yes," insisted Iroh coolly.

"You've got to be kidding me." Under his breath he uttered a mild swear, before adding on, "Look, I _do_ know the basics! Can't you just, well, tell me what to do about asking Mai?"

In an identical manner, Iroh folded his arms across his chest and sternly returned Zuko's look. "Oh, really? Then enlighten me, grasshopper. And no," he added as an afterthought, "I refuse to assist you until I am certain that you are properly educated."

Resigning himself to the unavoidable, Zuko mumbled, "How thorough?"

Iroh's upper lip curled into a tiny smirk. "Textbook thorough."

This was too much for him. Indignantly Zuko jumped to his feet, gazing with fury down upon the old man. "This is ridiculous, Uncle! It's already uncomfortable enough; spare me, would you?"

"Ah. So I see." Instead of imitating his motions, Iroh calmly remained seated on the sofa. "So you're comfortable with asking me about having sex, but you can't explain it?" There was a hint of disbelief in his tone.

Not willing to retreat from an argument, Zuko slumped back onto the adjacent sofa and challengingly gazed at Iroh. "Fine. Then enlighten _me_."

Like two full moons, Iroh's auburn eyes widened. "Really? Well, firstly, you need to—"

"Ugh! Forget I asked!" Disgust was written across Zuko's face. Placing both hands on the sofa, he prepared to stand up, only to be interrupted as his uncle insisted, "Wait, I have an idea!"

"What?" grunted Zuko. "A live demonstration? I think I'll pass."

"No, of course not!" Although Zuko had been expecting a stern rebuke, instead Iroh chortled with faint amusement. The trademark glimmer returned to his eyes, and he grinned broadly at his nephew. "We're going to the library."


End file.
